


Find Your Fire

by aqueentorattlestars



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Drabbles, Gen, acowar au, nesta has fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 17:58:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12237846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aqueentorattlestars/pseuds/aqueentorattlestars
Summary: Nesta Archeron was gifted with powers from the Cauldron that no one expected. She pays a visit to the King of Hybern to return that damning promise she made when he put her inside the Cauldron.





	Find Your Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the quote:  
> "A grin of sharp and reckless and wild, I’ve got nothing left to lose, brittle, I’ve seen the fucking world and I know what I’m up against.  
> A grin made for war."

**“** _ She was fire enough to light the way and burn anything that tried to stop her.  _ **”**

Heavy doors were flung open as if they were nothing more than paper to be pushed aside; all eyes turned to assess the intrusion. Weapons, both metallic and magical, were raised in preparation for the assailant. The king of Hybern waited, expectant that he would be visited by the High Lords in a last stand against his forces. But what greeted his eyes… Was no High Lord. The muscle in the king’s jaw feathered when his eyes bore down upon his Fae creation.  


**“Hello, little king,”** Nesta spoke, tone dripping sweetness while she surveyed the throne room. The flush in her cheeks, the fire in her voice. In the fading light, she seemed to shimmer and glow like a phoenix in flame. Head haloed by her burnished gold hair, and the dress hugging her body, the life, the spirit in her voice and expression… It was appealing, it was arousing, it was  _deadly_. It was purely Nesta gleaming with all of her glory against a fiery sunset, one that seemed so much brighter than moments before.  
  
Each step was lined with sparks and embers, fire licking at the heels. The whole room seemed to be waiting with bated breath; waiting, watching for what this one female would do. What she would say.   
  
 _“What do I owe this pleasure, Nesta?”_ The King asked, puzzling together how she had made it here. Why she had been alone. What her intent was. A slow smile curled onto his lips as he pressed on,  _“Have you come to betray your sister? You have realized that the Night Court has waged a losing war against me?”  
  
_ Silence. Impenetrable, maddening silence as Nesta continued her stalk to the throne. She took pleasure in making him wait for an explanation. Long, lean limbs carried her effortlessly across the marbled floor. A dress of finest silk, gold and shimmering, clung worshipfully to curves. She moved with such command, such dignified grace; truly, a queen without a throne. Five paces away from the King, the female finally stopped. Her full lips pursed together in a contemplative frown, as if trying to decide how to answer the King’s question.

Eyes of sapphire pools—that at one time resembled sparkles dancing across still water—were hooded, looking down as the frown turned woeful. An actress charming an ignorant audience.  **“I came to thank you, your highness,”** she started, voice quiet and meek,  **“To thank you for the gift of immortality. Of this _power._ ”  
  
**The male opened his mouth, about to speak, but was cut short as Nesta continued.   
  
 **“I made a promise… And your gift has allowed me to keep it.”  
** Her eyes snapped up and the eldest Archeron sister grinned. A grin of sharp and reckless and wild _, I’ve got nothing left to lose, brittle, I’ve seen the fucking world and I know what I’m up against._  
A grin made for war.

The whole room erupted in flames and smoke. Sprouting from her shoulder blades, the flames stretched out mightily, giving shape to a pair of wings. Wings of fire—a haunting, chilling declaration of Nesta’s purpose: vengeance. Her skin shimmered and danced with the flames beneath. A living fire; burning, destroying, and hungry for the blood of the King that had torn her world asunder.

Her fire continued to grow and grow. An inferno that would never be contained. She burned without reserve; becoming the very embodiment of the deadly element. Nesta’s embers roared; her power staggering and the sheer intensity of the flames deflected the weapons hurled towards her. They became nothing more than ashes and liquid metal pooling on the ground where Illyrian blood had once stained.  
  
Where she had once stood human.   
And had been forced into that thrice-blasted Cauldron.   
  
Human. Fae. Unmade. Made.   
  
Her mother had named her Nesta. Pure.   
It was only now—only in these flames, where all impurities burned of and left only the raw, beating heart in her chest, did Nesta live up to her name.   
  
Pure Power. Pure Hatred. Pure Cunning. Pure Resolve.   
  
Fire cleansed the world; burned away the dead and dying to make room for new life. Flowers bloomed from the ash of extinguished flames. Her fire would make way for Elain’s life of peace. Her fire would avenge Cassian’s loss. Her fire… would atone for the wrongs done to Feyre by her.   
  
 **“Never again.”** She ground out, all power thrust into a tornado of fire and smoke, while her wings of brilliant golds, reds, and whites burned higher and higher to the ceiling.   
  
Never again would the King harm another living soul.  
  
She smirked, that damning finger pointing to the High Fae, and the swirling twister of fire was upon him faster than the blink of an eye. 


End file.
